HERETRIX
by UnderdogFan1254
Summary: After Ivy's mother dies, she is soon asked to join the Glare of Flying Colors. She quickly accepts, but soon grows tired of the Glare's ways and even moreso of the Moonkeeper. Ivy, however, has made several friends in the Glare- and if she leaves, she won't be able to see them again. No other cat really likes the Moonkeeper, so Ivy decides to take her friends and make her own Glare
1. Allegiances

**MOONKEEPER:**

-Frosty Night - silver tabby tom (ice-blue eyes) | 50m

**WARRIORS:**

-Gnarled Bark - cinnamon ticked tom (yellow eyes) | 35m

_*-(Student, Ivy)_

-Flowing River - white she-cat with streaky gray patches (blue eyes) | 30m

-Leaping Snow - gray-and-white she-cat (yellow eyes) | 30m

-Silent Wind - gray-and-white cat (light green eyes) | 30m

-Clover Fur - big, buff fawn she-cat (light green eyes) | 17m

-Silver Night - black smoke tom (blue eyes) | 16m

-Bright Fern - brown-and-white she-cat (amber eyes) | 15m

-Flaming Dawn - ginger-and-white tom (light green eyes) | 11m

-Speckled Pelt - blue and cream tortie she-cat (yellow eyes) | 11m

-Sandy Shore - brown ticked tabby tom (teal eyes) | 11m

-Dust Storm - brown ticked tabby tom (yellow eyes) | 11m

**STUDENT:**

-Ivy - tan she-cat with a pale patch on her chest (light green eyes) | 11m

**QUEENS:**

-Tumbling Beams - black smoke she-cat with heavy vitiligo (blue eyes) | 36m

_(mother of:_

_*-Starry Sky - black smoke she-kit (ice-blue eyes) | 3m)_

-Sunset Cliffs - dark tortoiseshell she-cat (dark green eyes) | 34m

_(mother of:_

_*-Crimson Night - black tomkit with a striking red tail (kit-blue eyes flecked with light green) | 1m)_

**ELDER:**

-Swan's Wing - skinny fawn tom (blueish-green eyes) | 32m


	2. Prologue

The mountains were rather bleak before dawn.

It was an endless field of gray. The slanted ground with flat breaks, where the only color were the hints of grass and shrubs. Even then, they were few and far between. Further up than the den, a silver-blue and white waterfall rushed down. The river it fed into wasn't very far from the rocky, make-shift den three young cats sat under. The sky before the sun rose was just as bleak and grey, but kept the warmth of night in its edges.

It was not pretty. But the smell of the sea from several, _several _eagle-wings below, the warmth of littermates and the dirty, warm scent was so comforting. Ivy wouldn't wish to be anywhere else.

Ivy and her littermates, Cotton and June, had a bit of a schedule. Their mother would leave the den at half-high moonset, while her kits were sleeping. She would return when the sky was gray, too fast for the sun to be there. She never came home when the sky had color.

So, when their mother didn't come home when the sun's pink claws made themselves known, they were a bit worried.

Cotton, the biggest worrier of the triplets, was pacing. June, the most stoic, had his front legs crossed and his tan tail tapping impatiently. Ivy, the smallest, last born, and most stupid, was idally watching the waves crash into the rocks down below. They were louder and more violent now that the sun was rising. The wind picked up, blowing Ivy's fur just enough for it to move.

The breeze carried the salty, dusty scent of the ocean and rocks. The warmth of the waterfall and the river was stronger. Suddenly, another warm scent struck Ivy. It made her heart stop a moment as it hit her nose. Cotton, behind her, quit pacing and June stared ahead, wide-eyed.

It was dirty, a bit like the smell that monsters made when they tumbled through the mountains on unsteady paws. Or maybe the scent that filled a cat's mouth as they ended a prey's life. Cotton flattened her ears to her head and stepped up beside Ivy. The scent was coming from ahead of them, only brought by the wind.

June hopped to his huge tan paws, padding in front of his siblings. "Come on," he mewed. Cotton quickly followed, a pawstep away from their brother's shoulder. Ivy hopped down off the ledge, following a half-tail behind them.

"Is it a good idea to leave?" asked the white she-cat, waving her tail, "I mean, all of us. Wh-what if that smell is a cougar? Or a monster? What if mom comes home and she sees all of her kits gone?"

June flicked his ear but didn't respond.

The littermates continued to hop down outcrops and skid down ledges. Their den was several eagle-wings away when they came across a small waterfall. None of them had ever been this far from home before, but the scent was getting stronger. They took another few steps down, and the river thinned out to two tail lengths beside them. On the other side was a lump of red. The wind didn't change direction, but all three cats knew that was the source.

"Buzzardfood," Ivy muttered. But then the lump shifted, and all three of the cats were taken aback. Cotton was the first cat to leap across, making it with several pawsteps to spare. She didn't take any time to appreciate making it before stepping right into the blood and leaning over the lump. She soon turned, wide-eyed, toward her siblings and called them over with a wave of her red-stained tail.

June hopped over next on heavy paws. Ivy made it with the least room to spare. She felt her heart drop when she saw what the lump truly was. A plump cat, her fur tan where the blood hadn't touched. Her tailtip was white, and her paws, underbelly and muzzle would've been as well. Her usually so green eyes were dull and dark.

"_Mom," _Ivy managed to choke out, her voice high-pitched and broken. Their mother reached one very shaky red paw toward June. Her gaze seemed lost, like she saw something beyond her kits.

"Be strong," was all she managed to mew before her paw fell and her eyes clouded. Cotton let out a loud cry, burying her previously white muzzle into their mother's red neck. Ivy felt her heart shatter in her chest but couldn't bring herself to move forward.

June closed his eyes, but Ivy couldn't quite bring herself to do that either. The three stayed like that for a very long time, Cotton crying into their mother's pelt, June and Ivy merely watching. A few pawsteps before sunhigh, a large patrol of cats stood on the ledge under them. In the head was a huge, scarred ginger cat.

"Leave," growled the cat, "You're not welcome here and that's for the buzzards."

"That's our _mother!" _Cotton barked.

The ginger cat flicked her ear. "So?"

June reached forward and tapped his paw against Cotton's tail. He gave her a look and, very slowly and reluctantly, the white she-cat stood. That wasn't enough for the ginger she-cat, though. She hopped up to the step that Ivy and her family stood on. First, she shoved their mother down off the ledge, where her cats tore her body apart even more. She then stared at Ivy, a malicious fire in her eyes, and tore an unsheathed claw through her ear tip.

"_Hey!" _June barked, shooting forward and nipping at the she-cat's paw. The she-cat struck back, scoring across his muzzle before bounding back a few steps.

"If I ever see the three of you together in these mountains again," she snarled, lashing her tail and turning her head down in a fighting stance, "Your mother won't be the only one dead."

June took a step back, his hackles risen. Ivy had shot to her sister, the cut on the tip of her ear slipping down the base and dripping onto her face. June sighed and turned around.

"You heard her," he mewed, defeatedly. His green eyes were dull and tired, whiskers and ears droopy. "Go your own ways."

Ivy glanced between each of her siblings, then the rows of stronger, bigger warriors that stood over their mother's corpse. Somehow, she looked even bloodier. Ivy squared her shoulders and tapped her nose to June's own, and then Cotton's.

"I'll miss you," she mewed, "Take care."

She hopped up the ledge, a tail-length high, and dashed off. Never to see her siblings again.


	3. Chapter 1

It had been one moon since Ivy's mother had been killed. She hadn't been doing too well. The wind was getting colder and the sun was setting sooner. Prey was getting harder to find and Ivy wasn't the best hunter in the first place. Ivy wasn't a very big cat, nor did she have a very big stomach, but one skinny mouse a day wasn't exactly filling. She missed her siblings. She _really_ missed her mom.

The worst day so far was the day her mother died. If not for her actual death, then for the screams that erupted from the scarp above her grave. They lasted from sunhigh to half-set, and when Ivy looked over at the space, it was drenched red with blood. The sunset was _very _red that night, and even the moon was pink.

Ivy had a personal code to never cross the river again. If not for fear of getting killed, then for the fear of meeting those cats again. Maybe she was more scared of the cats they were fighting. Unfortunately, prey wasn't looking too bright on her side and she had to. It was twilight and she had yet to eat one solid meal.

Tense, she hopped over the river with less than a step to spare. The moon had not been kind for her- be it her diet, emotional state or structure. Ivy was a short, too skinny, scruffy-furred cat. Her fur that didn't block heat or repel cold as well as it should've. Her ears were too big and her tail was too long. Her whiskers were the only thing well-sized on her entire cat.

Ivy heard a scuffle above her and threw her front paws up against the wall, just tall enough to see onto the top of the scarp. A redtail was clawing at a rocky hole on the edge bordering the river, flapping its wings angrily.

_Perfect, _Ivy thought, _it's distracted. _She'd never caught a hawk before, but surely it couldn't be all too difficult? Ivy had caught birds before, and, after all, hawks _were._

Sticking her tongue out and swiping it around her jaws, she hopped up. As Ivy made it to the ledge, she kicked a pebble off. It's thump sounded loudly in Ivy's ears, but the hawk didn't seem to notice.

Ivy pressed down close to the stone, stomach fur brushing it. She padded quietly forward. Once she was less than a tail-length from the hawk, Ivy pounced. She landed hard on the back of its wings, quickly realizing just how large the redtail was compared to her. The hawk cried and flapped, the force knocking Ivy off its back. She landed hard on her side with a grunt.

The hawk fluttered around, lifting itself off the ground and striking Ivy with its talons. Ivy's paws struck back though couldn't land a hit. Ivy quickly turned back onto her paws as the hawk let up. She leapt, trying to claw at its chest. The hawk cried again and scraped its claws across Ivy's shoulders, nearly lifting her from the ground.

The molly let out a loud cry, flailing her limbs as her paws were all lifted from the stone. Another cry echoed it. Ivy turned upward, in the direction of the slope, where three cats were running up. One was ginger and white, another was tan with a darker back, and the third was white with pure black stripes. Both the ginger and tan tom let out massive leaps. The ginger tom pushing the hawk down the ledge of the scarp, while the tan shoved Ivy.

The force of both cats was enough to make the redtail let go of Ivy, but all three cats and the hawk fell over the ledge. Ivy landed hard on her back with a loud sound. The hawk cried as it landed, ginger tom on its chest. The tan tom quickly got to his paws and jumped over Ivy, standing beside the ginger cat. Both cats dug their jaws into the redtail's neck. The bird let out one last cry before the rough flapping of its wings against the stone stopped.

Sure it was dead, Ivy rolled over. Her back ached and she felt a stickiness cling to her shoulder fur. She recognized it as blood as much as she recognized that the cats had landed below her mother's death site. She forced herself to her paws to meet the gazes of the other two cats. Each held one of the hawk's wings, its body hung limply between them. They weren't looking at Ivy, however, they were looking at the top of the highest ledge.

"Nice catch," came a gruff voice from above Ivy. She jumped and turned to look upward. There stood the silver-and-black tom, eyes kindly flickering between both of them and smiling softly. His eyes finally landed on Ivy. "You, however…"

"They're hurt, Frosty Night," the ginger tom said, spitting out his wing and stepping closer to Ivy. The molly, instinctively, crouched down and backed up. Her eyes went wide and her ears pressed flat back. Her haunches soon touched warmth, however, and Ivy quickly realized she had backed into a wall. She bared her teeth and arched her back, hackles quickly rising and falling. It burned to lift them. The tom didn't seem threatened in the slightest.

He curved around and sat at Ivy's side. Ivy never took her eyes off him as he did. He lifted a paw and placed it lightly on Ivy's shoulders. She involuntarily let out a yelp and arched higher as contact was made. The tom quickly pulled his white paw back and turned it over. Blood clung to his very pink, rock-roughed pads. He frowned, flattened his ears, and turned up to Frosty Night. Frosty Night sighed, flicked his tail and turned away. The tan tom got a stronger grip on the hawk, soon hopping up the ledges and following.

The ginger tom looked back down to Ivy. She turned to look back. He nodded at her and quietly mewed, "Come on, you're hurt, I'll help you. I'm Flaming Dawn, by the way."

_What strange names these cats have, _Ivy thought to herself. She rose fully to her paws, but the tom was still taller than her. "Okay. Thanks," she nodded toward the tom, though her head swirled as it turned downward. "Ivy."

Flaming Dawn tilted his head. "Ivy?"

The tan molly nodded and hopped up the first ledge. "Ivy."


	4. Chapter 2

Flaming Dawn's group was fine, but Ivy would be lying if she said she wasn't a _little _scared of them. One of the queens- Tumbling Beams, she figured- was ginormous. Silver Night, her son, who was _very _outspoken about Tumbling Beams being his mother, wasn't nearly as large; but there was still something a bit scary about seeing a silver triangular shape and two ocean-blue orbs staring straight through you at moonhigh.

The second biggest cat in the group was Clover Fur, who Ivy would again call absolutely huge- even moreso than Tumbling Beams because of just how clear her muscles were. Clover Fur was short-furred, while Silver Night and Tumbling Beams were long-furred. The rest of them were rather average-sized cats, though still taller than Ivy. One cat wasn't much larger than Ivy, however. Leaping Snow had her eyes only half a paw above Ivy's.

Leaping Snow did not care much for Ivy. But Ivy, from her makeshift nest right beside the tail-and-a-half entrance, liked to take a hair out of Silver Night's fur from time to time and just stare at her.

Silver Night and Ivy were not friends, not really, Flaming Dawn was her singular caretaker. Well, sometimes Sandy Shore, the second cat who saved her from the hawk, brought her a bit of half-eaten prey and stared at her from around the corner under the outcrop in the main section of the cave. But that wasn't friendship, that was weird. At least Ivy and Silver Night were watching the whole of the group.

Well. The _Glare of Flying Colors, _Ivy supposed.

Ivy spent several days with the Glare, up against that wall. The leader, _moonkeeper _as he was called, Frosty Night, had forbade her from going outside of the cave. Or looking around the cave. So, yes, she sat underneath that wall all day and night, the light from the small entrance hole hardly touching her direction. The wall was right behind the waterfall that thundered outside, though it was quieter than Ivy would've thought. The most infuriating thing was eating, however.

The fresh-kill pile was two tail-lengths away from were Ivy sat. Ivy could not move. Her legs weren't long enough- it was called a _tail-length _for a reason, after all. Usually Flaming Dawn would sit down beside Ivy and they'd share a piece of prey at sunhigh, though sometimes Flaming Dawn would share with his mother and little brother in the nursery. Sometimes Silver Night would share but he, too, had a mother and sibling in the nursery.

Ivy didn't trust when Sandy Shore brought her prey. She _did _eat what he brought, though. If he'd poisoned it, she'd much rather take the blow than some other Glare-cat. She did feel a bit sick most mornings, though she wasn't quite sure if that was something in the Glare-cat's saliva or her being unused to eating solid food every day.

"We won't have very much constant food for long," Flaming Dawn informed that noon, "You joined us on the last moon in the Time of Short Sunsets. The Time of Dark Days will start any day now."

_These Glare-cats and their strange vocabularies, _Ivy thought, but she nodded along as Flaming Dawn dragged a pathetic poorwill nearer to them.

"What are you doing?" came a rough and scratchy voice.

Ivy looked up from the bird's feathers. Flaming Dawn jumped and turned around. Frosty Night stood behind them, scowling. He reached out an unsheathed paw and quickly pulled the bird away.

"Why don't you make uses of yourselves and catch some prey, hm?" Frosty Night scowled, picking up the poorwill in his jaws and padding away before Flaming Dawn could reason with him. The tom blinked and loosened his shoulders as the moonkeeper ducked into the second hole on the wall- certainly not the one where the queens slept.

Flaming Dawn sighed and stood, turning back to Ivy. "I suppose we must feed the queens, then."

Ivy looked back at the fresh-kill pile. Sure, there wasn't much, but there _were _two kestrels and a bat.

"Can't the queens eat a kestrel?" Ivy asked, "Those are big enough, aren't they? And isn't Crimson Night still on milk?"

"He's being weaned," Flaming Dawn informed, "Those will… probably go to the warriors. Come on."

Ivy stood and didn't object to coming along. She followed Flaming Dawn up and down the steps of the Glare's cave and into the bright outside.

"The _warriors?" _Ivy repeated, "Surely the queens need it more. Without them, you won't have any more cats."

"True," was all Flaming Dawn responded with. Ivy opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it and stayed silent instead. The waterfall thundered and foamed behind them, dampening the sides of the walls of the stone behind and above it.

Flaming Dawn didn't lead Ivy over the stoney bridge, however, instead he led her along the outside cave wall. Shade from an outcrop above covered both of them and the slope of the path fell away, further and further down. It wasn't a fall big enough to kill, but a cat could get harmed, and Ivy's shoulders ached enough. She pressed closer to the wall though couldn't tear her eyes from the drop.

Finally, Flaming Dawn paused and hopped up atop a large, pointed ledge. Ivy slowly followed, her paws heavy and shaking as the ground got further away. Flaming Dawn sat down and smiled.

"Scared of heights?"

Ivy gulped dryly, gaze still staring down. The ground seemed to be five eagle-wings down, but, to any tiny cat, it was a huge fall regardless. It was a huge fall to a _normal-sized_ cat, and yet Flaming Dawn wasn't scared in the slightest. The tom took a deep breath as an ocean breeze ruffled the two cat's fur. It sent a chill down Ivy's spine. Yes, the cold season was about to come.

Ivy eventually sighed and sat beside Flaming Dawn, though still didn't take her gaze from the ground. The tom sighed as she settled.

"Stars," he whispered, "I do hope Frosty Night gave that bird to Gnarled Bark or Flowing River and not Bright Fern."

"Why?" Ivy asked, managing to rip her eyes from the stone and into Flaming Dawn's face. The tom didn't look at her, however, his gaze was focused on the horizon. "What's wrong with Bright Fern?"

"Well…" Flaming Dawn sighed, "Frosty Night… he… erm. _Fancies _Bright Fern, I suppose you could say."

Every one of Ivy's hairs rose before she could stop them. Her shoulders didn't burn with their rising, which was a good sign, _unlike _Frosty Night's choice of temptress. She forced her fur to lie flat and cleared her throat, awkwardly turning her eyes toward the ocean.

"Well, uh," she started, "We… can't control who a cat loves."

Flaming Dawn continued, voice rather calm. "Yes. But, it's a bit of… an unspoken law, of ours. See… every Time of Dark Days, some of our mollies will leave the Glare, get a mate, and come back in the Time of Budding Leaves and have their kits."

Ivy blinked. What a stupid, bad ideology! "So, what, toms can't have kits?"

"Sure they can," Flaming Dawn mewed, "But the mollies are the ones who carry the kits, so it's easier to bring them back. A tom, you'd have to steal your kittens… or bring your mate. Like, Gnarled Bark is Sandy Shore and Dust Storm's father. His mate came into our territory to give birth, but died doing it. Most mollies don't die giving birth with kits for their fathers to take."

"Why not just mate with eachother?" Ivy asked, unable to keep a bit of a raspy growl from her voice.

"The Glare isn't very big, Ivy," Flaming Dawn said, defeatedly. "And most of us have siblings. It's too easy to mate into the family that someone in your's has already mated into. If there's enough of that, kits will just die after they're born. Or they'll get something that'll kill them soon enough."

That was certainly an explanation, Ivy conceded. "Why not have both then, hm? Some cats can mate with other Glare-cats, some go out."

"It used to be like that, yes…" Flaming Dawn admitted.

"Why'd you change it then?"

"You'd have to ask Frosty Night that," Flaming Dawn said with a shrug. "Frosty Night is an excellent hunter. But he is a coward and he is a featherbrain."

Ivy smiled and pricked her ears. She lightly nudged Flaming Dawn with her shoulder. "You could say Frosty Night has a _poorwill?"_

Flaming Dawn let out a breath of laughter. "Yes. You _could _say that."

With that, Ivy carefully and slowly turned around and started making her way back to the wall. "Well. You can't argue with your leader, can you?"

"He already took one Glare mate," Flaming Dawn suddenly informed.

Ivy froze in her tracks and turned to look back at the tom. "Huh?"

"He didn't help raise them. Or name them. Or help birth them. One of his kits died, and the other resents him."

Ivy blinked and flattened her ears, her eyes frantically scanning the surface of the ledge they still stood on. Maybe their law had more sense than Ivy first thought, her father wasn't around either. Eventually, she managed to look back up at the tom.

"Silver Night?" she whispered, "He was Frosty Night's kit, wasn't he?"

Flaming Dawn glanced over his shoulder. "Yes."

"And…" Ivy gulped, "And his sibling's name?"

"Didn't have one," Flaming Dawn mewed softly, as if that was no big deal, "We call the afterlife the Glare of Flying Colors. But cats who never became warriors don't go there, much less cats who never breathed a breath."

Ivy felt a fury rise inside her at how any cat could be so cruel to not name their children, even dead ones, but kept her mouth shut. Above them an eagle cried, but there were no pieces of to-be fresh-kill in that part of the mountain. Flaming Dawn hummed and stepped backward.

"We've wasted enough time. Come on."


End file.
